


Tameless

by storyspinner70



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Sam, Sibling Incest, Violence, brief mention of underage sex, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-11-19 23:47:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11324238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storyspinner70/pseuds/storyspinner70
Summary: Written from an amazing prompt on Facebook by dcjuris.I have played fast and loose with the canon timeline. In this world, Sam was an omega and John sold him, ashamed of Sam's status. Since John never died and Sam wasn't around, most of what happened in the show wouldn't have, though you can assume as much happened with John instead of Sam as was feasible. I rearranged things as I needed, and I used what I needed to, sometimes in different ways than in canon, though I kept the characters as canonly in character as possible.I'm slotting them back into canon in Season 8. Time wise, they should be in Season 9, but there's no way to bring them into that season  midstream, so just be aware of the time shift. :DHere we go, y'all, this was an amazing prompt and I can only hope I did it justice!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dcjuris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dcjuris/gifts).



**Title:** Tameless

 **Author:** storyspinner70

 

**Based on this amazing FB prompt by dcjuris:**

_I need an A/b/o AU where Dean presented as an Alpha at a young age, but Sam took longer, and to his father's horror, he presented as a omega. He sold Sam (told Dean Sam ran away). Dean's never stopped looking for his baby brother, and when, after he's grown, he learns John lied to him, he doubles his efforts. He takes out newspaper ads, does TV interviews... anything he can think of. After 15 years of searching, Dean's Alpha friends Benny & Cas get a good, solid lead. A badly abused omega was found at the front door of a hospital four states over. When Benny and Cas get proof (someone sends them a photo), they take it to Dean and the three of them go get Sam. But nothing is easy - Sam is terrified, hasn't let any of the doctors near him. He's pretty much feral- he scratches and tries to bite anyone who comes near...until he smells Dean. Sam remembers nothing about his life before, but he remembers Dean's scent. It takes weeks to coax any words out of him, and months until he can sleep through the night. But it's Dean and Sam together, like they're supposed to be, and Dean will be damned if he's giving up on his baby brother. Eventual sexy times, as appropriate. Lots of angst, lots of comfort, lots of Dean doing what he does best - taking care of Sammy._

 

Dean left John a mess in the hallway – skin split, bones broken, blood pooling. He was alive, of course, Dean wouldn’t kill him outright – some vestige of remembered loyalty to the man that used to be his kin, maybe, or a hold back to his need to only kill monsters – though that thing slumped in the floor would more than qualify. It was the only kindness John would ever see at his hand again; the fact that Dean hadn’t caved John’s skull in with the very boots he’d bought Dean just a week before.

Dean moved quickly, gathering all evidence that John was ever alive – notes, weapons, phones, fake ids – detritus of a life lived in shadows – a life erased in minutes. Dean took what he wanted, kept what he needed, hands shaking with rage and grief and disgust, and piled the rest into John’s truck moments before he set it on fire. No, John’s not dead, but the chances of him living through this were slight enough with a way to get to help. Nothing but an angel could save John at this point, and Dean understands now why they never seemed to be listening when it was John calling.

Dean knows there’s a reaper somewhere close by, and for once no one is talking deals to make them stop.

Thunder rolls across the atmosphere again, deep booms of air crashing back together when lightning splits the sky, and Dean’s shaking now from toes to hair, rage dulling down to leave just the pain behind. His Sammy never ran away. His Sammy never ran away.

He shored up and firmed his gut, stopping his tremors with sheer will and hate. This wasn’t the time or place for what he knew was coming. He thought he heard screaming when he climbed into Baby, but it would never be the time or place for that ever again. He called Bobby halfway down the road, teeth sharp around the words demanding to know if Bobby knew. He didn’t. There was nothing but silence once he did. Dean hung up satisfied this monstrous thing was John’s alone.

He made it through the door of Rufus’ cabin before he realized what a mistake it was to come here. He can see Sammy’s face when he was four and eight and ten and thirteen sitting on the sagging sofa and eating at the lopsided table. He hears his voice screeching and bitching and mumbling in his sleep. He misses Sammy so much he can barely breathe.

It was that moment – duffle gripped so tight in his hand the straps were doing their best to embed themselves in his skin – when Dean fell apart, the crack of thunder and sizzle of lightning the perfect soundtrack to the dismantling of everything he’d known to be true for the last fifteen years. Fifteen years of blaming himself for Sam running away. Fifteen years of loneliness and anger. Fifteen years of lies exposed by too much liquor and no regret.

**

They’d saved an omega this afternoon, a sweet little thing that clung tight to Dean long after the threat was gone. Dean soothed him, giving the boy all the reassurance he needed until he was safe again with the family that loved him. His dad was insulting in a way Dean never knew he could be, not to the boy’s face, sure, but spiteful and hateful all the same. John was almost done with a bottle, still bitching about the uselessness of omegas when he fucked up.

Maybe he forgot Dean was in the room. Maybe he thought Dean wouldn’t hear. Maybe he didn’t care. Whatever the reason, Dean now knew the actual truth. John, disgusted by his youngest son’s gender, had sent Dean on a three day hunt and cleaved the hateful weakness from their family. One neat surgical strike and they were strong again.

Dean was still and silent, horror washing over him as everything he’d thought lay broken in pieces at his feet. It felt like he stood there for hours, trying to grasp what his father had said. Once he did, he lit into his father, demanding facts with his fists and retribution with his boots. By the time he was done, Dean knew the name of the trader John had sold Sam to, and the feel of his father’s bones breaking under his hands.

Fifteen years. Dean’s precious brother was an omega. Dean had popped his knot pretty early, and sure Dean had poked and prodded at Sam when his thirteenth birthday had come and gone with no sign of a knot but there was never any doubt that Sam would pop his own soon enough. Sam was a damn good hunter, strong and fast. He didn’t hesitate when it came to putting down a monster and saving the day.

But thinking back, Dean could remember how clingy Sam got after a hunt. How it was always Sam that took care of the people they could save, reassuring them after they realized monsters were indeed real. And their poor excuse for a sperm donor had sold Sam to the highest bidder.

**

When Dean became aware again, Rufus’ cabin was in a shambles, and Dean was more determined than ever. He had a brother to find and he was fifteen years behind. He started calling everyone he knew for information. By the time dawn lightened the sky, Dean had the last known location of the trader he was looking for, and his friends Benny and Cas on their way.

Only when Dean staggered and fell after getting off the couch did he realize he needed sleep. When his phone woke him three hours later, he was up and out of the cabin in minutes.

**

Bradford Ansen was dead and so was the only lead to Sam’s whereabouts that Dean had. When Benny and Cas found him, Dean was steadily working his way through the traders that were alive and other hunters looking for information the only way he knew how – with his fists.

Sporadic mentions of a tall, untamed omega kept Dean going, even when the information turned grim.

The omega fought like omegas never did, and that made him a problem. He had become something of a legend – something everyone was eager to tell tales about, something they chattered on and on about, not realizing who they were talking to.

Hunters especially reveled in the stories of the omega, but all they saw was a rogue that was trying to be something he wasn’t. An omega playing at being an alpha. An omega that wouldn’t submit. They told the tales of how various owners had tried to break the omega like it was a grand adventure. They snickered over the failures of the owners who had tried and failed.

It was when they started – and they always, always started – on how they’d break him, the things they’d do differently, the ways they’d use the omega and punish him, that Dean stopped talking. It was then they always started to bleed.

**

When he wasn’t terrorizing people for answers, Dean was trying every outlet he could think of to find Sam. The back of Baby was covered in stacks of fliers he’d put up in every city and town he came near. Cas and Benny went on TV stations and radio programs, every time telling the story of Dean’s lost brother. Tips flocked in by the droves and Dean tracked down every one of them, even when none turned out to be of any help at all.

**

Cas had been exiled from heaven for a long time, but was working every old contact he had. Of the few who would still speak to him, one had just the break they needed. Cas could see the anger in Inias’ eyes, but Inias was one of the only angels to stand up for Cas and was always seeking peaceful resolution to the war in heaven. Inias spoke one word, “Illinois”, then vanished.

Cas grabbed Benny and headed for Illinois – one of the few states they hadn’t been through yet. It was in Chatham they finally found some hope. The town was abuzz with the story of an abandoned omega that had been dumped on the steps of the hospital in the neighboring city of Springfield. It wasn’t the fact the omega had been abandoned that caused all the gossip, that unfortunately happened all the time to omegas who had gotten too ill or old to serve much purpose for owners who never cared for them beyond the children they could bear and the housework they could do.

No, abandoned omegas were nothing new, but feral abandoned omegas were. The man had been dumped on the front lawn of the hospital, limbs bound and barely one spot on him that wasn’t bloody. He had been unconscious for three days and the doctors frankly weren’t sure he’d ever wake up. But he woke up. Boy did he wake up.

Disoriented and vicious, the omega woke up fighting and didn’t stop until his hospital room was destroyed and four orderlies held him down and sedated him. They had moved him to a high security room reserved for prisoners and removed anything that wasn’t expressly necessary. They had to sedate him to do anything, and once he was sufficiently healed, they were going to move him to a psychiatric facility and keep him heavily medicated.

Cas and Benny put on their FBI suits and headed to the hospital with a disposable digital camera and a prayer. Benny called Dean as soon as they were done.

“Cas is sending you pictures of an abandoned omega to your email. What you think?”

Dean pulled over to the shoulder and immediately opened his laptop. Dean studied cloudy hazel eyes and a bruised oval face. He clicked through all the pictures – a crooked pointy nose, lank filthy brown hair, an emaciated body almost too long for the bed. “That’s my Sammy. Where is he?”

“Springfield Illinois.”

“Don’t leave him. I’ll be there in...” Dean paused to check driving directions, “...eight hours.”

“Alright, brother. Drive careful. We’ll stay with him.”

Hang on, Sammy, Dean thought. Big brother’s on his way.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean hit Springfield in just under seven hours. He was exhausted, nothing keeping him on his feet but the promise of seeing Sammy again. He’d contemplated his approach on the drive, but had settled on simply letting the “FBI” get him into the room and set about reminding Sam of the brother who loved him.

Once he had his hands on Sam again, no one would ever separate them. No one.

Benny met him at the door with a hug and a warning. “Welcome, brother. You need to understand something, Dean, before we go up there.” Dean tensed. “He’s beat all to hell and has scars on top of scars. He’s wild and dangerous and I haven’t heard him speak since we got here. They’ve got him tied down and sedated most of the time, though he’s not sedated right now. He just...” Benny paused. “...he makes these noises, Dean. Just heartbreaking, guttural...” Benny stopped again. “You can’t lose it, brother. Do you understand? You gotta stay firm and keep it together. Sam needs you to.”

Dean’s voice scraped out of a throat gone dry. “Alright.”

“He’s this way.”

Dean could hear Sam when they were halfway down the hall and took off at a run, ignoring Benny calling to him as he went. The closer he got, the louder Sam seemed to be, wordless, guttural screaming increasing the closer Dean got. Cas simply held the door open for Dean, giving Dean a sad smile as he passed.

Dean stopped just inside the door and quickly took in the scene before him. Sam was thrashing around on the bed, pulling his restraints and kicking out as far as they’d let him. Orderlies were surrounding him, trying to catch him and hold him down for whatever they needed to do now.

“Get away from him!” Dean bellowed. “Now!”

“I don’t know who you are, but we’ve got to...”

“I’m his brother and the only thing you have to do is leave him the hell alone.”

Sammy had snapped his eyes to Dean as soon as Dean had yelled, gaze trained on the face he likely thought he’d never see again. When the orderlies did not move, Dean started after them. “I said to move, or I will move you!”

“Brother or not, sir, this omega is dangerous. I can _not_ allow you to...”

“No one allows me to do shit when it comes to my own little brother, _ma’am_.” Dean’s emphasis left no doubt ma’am was not used with respect. “He was taken from me fifteen years ago. I’ll never leave him again.”

“You can’t...”

“Watch me.”

Dean approached the bed, shoving orderlies back as he went, and Sammy stilled. “Hey, little brother. We have a lot to talk about, you and I. I missed you.” Dean kept up a steady stream of chatter as he unbuckled Sam’s restraints. Dean could hear loud, sharp voices in the background, and Benny and Cas’s firm responses.

Once free, Sam jumped up, crouching in the corner of his bed, his hands fisted around the safety bars and the headboard. Dean could see Sammy’s nostrils flaring, his eyes darting around the room looking for danger but always coming back to Dean. “Oh, Sammy, I’m so sorry. Can I touch you, Sammy? Just a touch.”

Sam growled low in his throat, and Dean dropped his outstretched hand. “It’s okay Sammy. It’s okay.”

Dean settled at the foot of Sam’s bed, one leg propped up on the mattress and the other boot on the floor. “Everyone out.”

“Absolutely, not!”

“Get. Out.”

Dean sat motionless as Benny and Cas cleared the room and stood guard outside the door.

Sam and Dean stared at each other, no words between them. Sam eventually settled down, sliding a little further down on the bed.

“John’s dead,” Dean said, no emotion left in his voice, “or at least probably. I doubt even that bastard could weasel his way out of the situation I left him in.”

Sam gave a wounded cry at the news, his hand stretching for Dean for an instant before he froze, pulling his hand back quickly.

“I didn’t know, Sammy. Until about a year ago, I thought you’d run away from me.” Sam was silent except for heaving, faltering breaths. “I believed John when he told me that. I...I thought you didn’t want me the way I wanted you. That you’d left in disgust. It was right after I touched you for the first time and I...” Dean broke off on a sob. “I swear, Sammy, if you come back to me I’ll never touch you again if that’s what you want. I swear it. I’ll do whatever you…”

Suddenly, Sam let out a cry and threw himself at Dean. Dean fell back at Sam’s sudden weight, but held tight. “Oh, Sammy. Come here, little brother, come here.” Dean shifted so the footboard wasn’t digging into his spine and he was closer to the middle of the bed, both legs now up on the bed. Grabbing Sam by the hips, Dean pulled him fully into his lap. “Oh, god, Sammy. I missed you so fucking much.”

Sam held tight to Dean’s neck, shaking. Dean rubbed his back, feeling scars under his fingertips, and tried as hard as he could not to let rage take over again. “It’s okay, Sammy. It’s okay. We’ll never be apart again.” Dean kissed the top of his brother’s filthy hair. “No one will ever pry you away from me again, baby boy, I swear.”

They stayed like that until night fell, the light seeping through the tiny, high window changing from warm sunlight to automatic light. Outside, the sounds of the hospital carried on. Shoes clacking on the floor, the thump, thump of equipment being wheeled from room to room, the raised, angry voices outside the room from time to time. Life trundled on like the most monumental thing in the last fifteen years hadn’t just happened.

Dean talked. Dean sang. Dean cried – quiet and still like Sammy’s breath.

There would be time for the world later.

Time for Sammy to get clean.

Time for Dean to take him out of here.

Time for Sammy to remember.

Time for Dean to make it right again.

But that was later. For now, there was only time to breathe.

Sam slept soundly, maybe for the first time in fifteen years.

Dean never took his eyes off him.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam moving snapped Dean awake, his arms automatically tightening to hold Sam still. Sam grunted and continued trying to get up. Dean shook his head, wakefulness coming slower than he’d like. “Shh shh, it’s okay Sammy.”

Dean let Sammy go, watching him carefully. Sam pulled away, crouching in the middle of the bed, pulling at the adult diaper they’d put on him. “You want that off, Sam? Come on, let’s get you showered while we’re at it.” Dean paused for a moment. “Sam, I’m going to call a friend in here, okay? He’ll just be here for a minute, okay?”

Dean turned to face the door and raised his voice slightly, knowing Benny’s vamp ears could still hear him with ease. “Benny? Come in here a second, would you?”

The door opened quickly, and Benny stepped inside. “Hey brother, what you need?”

Sammy pressed himself to Dean’s back, growling. Dean didn’t know if it was that Benny was a vamp, that he was a stranger, or that he called Dean brother that set Sam off, but Sam definitely was not fond of Benny right now.

“Maybe stick to Dean for right now, yeah?”

Benny smiled and nodded.

“We need clothes, first of all. I’m gonna get Sammy all cleaned up. I also need his medical records. I need to see if he’s healing okay and if I can move him. Speaking of moving him, I need a place to move him to. Something permanent. Something nice.”

“You got it bro- You got it.”

“Thanks Benny.”

After Benny left, Dean pulled Sam to the bathroom. “Come on Sammy, we’re gonna get you all cleaned up. You’ll feel better once we wash all the ugly away. Once we get that girly hair of yours all scrubbed clean.”

Sam let Dean pull him along and stood still while Dean removed his hospital gown and the soiled adult diaper. When Dean turned on the shower, though, Sam threw himself into the corner, pained whines forced from his throat.

Dean quickly adjusted the temperature and turned to Sammy. “Shh, baby boy, no. It’s okay, Sammy. It’s me. It’s just me.” Dean reached for Sammy, pulling him gently to his feet. “Come on, little brother. I promise it won’t hurt. Look, come here.” Dean reached out, his hand flowing through the water. “Come on, Sammy.” Sam reluctantly followed. “See? Come on, Sammy, get in while I get undressed, okay?” Slowly, Sam stepped into the shower, his back pressed to the plastic surround. “Thank you, Sammy.”

Dean undressed quickly, his back to Sam. He was trying his hardest not to think about what had happened to his brother to make him so afraid of a simple shower, but was failing. He wondered, for a split second, if he could do this – do right for his brother. Could he make up for everything that had happened? Would his brother ever speak again? Would Dean fuck things up even more? Cracking his neck and shaking his shoulders out, Dean plastered a smile on his face and turned back to Sammy.

“Okay, Sammy, let’s get you clean.” Sam was tense but let Dean move him into the spray. He stood still as Dean soaped him up, cleaning his wounds carefully, Dean’s fingers trailing over split skin and scars like they had a mind of their own. “I’m so sorry, Sammy. God, I’m so fucking sorry.”

Sam just stood there, head bowed, still and silent even now.

“I thought you ran away because we’d fooled around. I thought that, maybe, in the cold light of day, you realized how fucked up I was, and you were afraid I’d never leave you alone. I wanted to go after you. I packed up and everything. But then...I didn’t think you’d want to see me. I looked for you everywhere we went. I wanted to see your face every day for the last fifteen years. Every day you were...” Dean’s voice broke.

Sam moved then, stepping closer and pressing against Dean, hugging him tight. Dean immediately closed his arms around his brother. Sam began to rock, a slight swaying meant to soothe Dean, a rough, low humming echoing in the humid bathroom.

“Sammy,” Dean whispered. He was supposed to be helping his brother, but even after everything he’d been through, Sam was trying to take care of Dean. “I’m okay, baby brother. I’m okay. And you are too. Nothing will ever hurt you again. Not while I’m alive. Come on, Sammy. Let’s wash your hair and get out of here.” Dean did just that, washing Sam’s hair while Sam kept their foreheads pressed together. “I love you Sammy. Lean back, we need to rinse.”

Dean turned off the water and dried himself off quickly, then reached for Sam, drying him more carefully and thoroughly. “I’ll be right back, Sammy. Stay right here.” Dean had seen tubes of antibiotic cream on the tray in Sammy’s room. He ran to go get it, and noticed two stacks of clean clothes resting at the foot of Sam’s bed. He grabbed the boxers from both and headed back to the bathroom. He called out to Benny on the way. “Get some clean sheets, too, would you Benny? Thanks.”

Back in the bathroom, Dean coated each cut on Sam’s body with cream, cataloging each – a memory to feed the rage and thirst for revenge building inside him. He wouldn’t leave Sammy. Not now. But Dean didn’t care if it took him years. He’d find who did this to his Sammy, and he’d burn every one of them to the ground. It was only a matter of time.

“Okay, Sammy. I need to ask you. Boxers or do you need the diapers? It’s okay if you do, Sammy, okay?” Sam huffed and grabbed at the boxers in Dean’s hand. “I was just asking, little brother. I just wanted to make sure.”

Dean’s eye fell on some items kept on a high shelf. He pulled down a safety razor and some shaving cream. “Sammy? Want to shave? Or just want me to clean up your beard?”

Sam paused for a moment then slowly pointed at the razor in Dean’s hand. “Okay baby brother. Sit down here on the toilet. I’ll go see if I can find some scissors.” Dean noticed a fresh set of bedclothes on the foot of Sam’s bed and a thick file folder resting on top of them. Sam’s records. But what he didn’t find were scissors. Dean quickly checked the edge on his knife. Clean and sharp. It would have to do.

“Okay, Sammy, no scissors. If you trust me, I can use my knife. I just need to shorten your beard up some. No way I could use a razor on it like it is now. Is that okay?”

Sam rolled his eyes and nodded. Dean tugged sharply on Sam’s hair. “Don’t get snotty with me, little brother, especially when I have a knife in my hand.” Dean grasped some of Sam’s beard and drew the knife through it, cutting the hair close to Sam’s skin. Sam must have seen the glint of the blade out of the corner of his eye, because he shrank back, a guttural cry torn from this throat.

“Shh shh, no Sammy. It’s okay. It’s just me. It’s just me. Look, I’m putting it away. I’ll find scissors somewhere. Hang on tight, Sammy.” Dean stepped out of the bathroom, his mouth opening to call out for Benny, when the door opened and Benny handed Dean a pair of sturdy, heavy scissors. “Vamp hearing, huh?”

Benny just smiled and closed the door.

Dean stepped back into the bathroom with the scissors, holding them up for Sammy to see. “Are these okay, little brother?”

Sam reached out for them, hesitant in a way he had never been fifteen years ago, and Dean wished his father dead a little more. After a moment, Sam handed them back, nodding. “Okay, Sammy, here we go.” Slowly, Dean trimmed Sam’s beard close to his skin. Sam was tense, hands fisted in his lap, overly long nails pushing into his palms, but they made it through it without incident.

“I’m going to use the razor now, Sammy. Okay?” Sam nodded. Dean let the water run hot and soaked a washrag before ringing it out almost completely. “Going to soak your beard for a bit, Sammy, so it’s a little easier.”

Sam flinched as the hot rag touched his face, but it cooled quickly and Sam eased a little when he realized it wouldn’t hurt. Turning the water more warm, Dean cupped his hand and brought a little water to Sam’s face, wetting one side of Sam’s beard, following it with lather. Popping the cap off the razor, Dean held it up for Sam’s inspection. Sam nodded, stiffening his back when Dean didn’t think that would be possible.

“Just breathe, Sammy. Hold still for me, okay?” Sam nodded faintly and didn’t move. Dean slowly and painstakingly shaved Sam, taking twice as long as he usually did himself partly to avoid hurting Sam even on accident and partly because Sam’s beard was thick and hard to shave. When he was done, Dean wet the washcloth again, holding it to Sam’s jaw, wiping away the last of the shave cream and soothing Sam’s skin.

Dropping his hand to Sam’s, he picked up Sam’s, uncurling his fingers and getting some antibiotic cream to put on the cuts Sam had made in his palms. Rooting around, Dean found some nail clippers and trimmed Sam’s hands and feet. Finishing up, he looked up at Sam, who had been sitting quietly on the toilet. “You’re beautiful, little brother.” Sam made a sharp noise, shaking his head in denial. “You are!” Dean pushed, standing and pulling Sam with him. “Look, Sammy. Look.”

Sam slowly raised his eyes to the mirror Dean stood him in front of. He turned, examining his beardless face in the reflection, before running his fingers through his uneven, too long hair. He was shaking his head, over and over as he looked, fingers ghosting over his hair and face and torso.

With a sharp cry, Sam sprang for the mirror, slamming his fists into the glass. Dean grabbed him and pulled him tight against him. “Shh, Sammy, no. Shh. Come on baby brother. Come on, Sammy. Come with me.” Dean dragged Sam back into his hospital room, sitting him on a chair. “Let me change the sheets and stuff, okay Sammy?” Dean handed Sam the clothes Benny had brought and quickly dressed in his own. Sam just sat, arm wrapped around the new clothes, his other hand tugging at his unruly hair.

Dean quickly stripped and remade the bed, placing Sam’s medical records on the table out of Sam’s sight. When he turned back around and saw Sam, he stepped back into the bathroom to grab the scissors. “You want me to trim your hair, Sammy?”

Sam looked up, startled like he hadn’t been paying any attention, but nodded. Dean put Sam’s clothes back on the bed and scooted the chair, Sam and all, further into the center of the room. Sam smiled – his lips barely upturned for a split second – but for Dean, it was the best thing he’d seen in almost sixteen years. Pulling his comb out of his pocket, he carefully untangled Sam’s still damp hair. He cut a good five inches of Sam’s hair, but kept it long like Sam had always liked. “Remember when I used to do this Sammy? I used to always tell you I was going to cut it all off, remember? You’d just roll your eyes at me because you knew. You wouldn’t even play along. You were such a little brat, I swear.”

Dean kept up a steady chatter as he straightened Sam’s hair. He’d cut it so often when they were younger he’d gotten pretty good. It wasn’t until he moved around in front of Sam, that he realized Sam was crying. Bending, Dean grabbed the back of Sam’s head, and pressed his mouth to Sam’s bangs. “Oh, little brother. Let it out, baby boy. I’m here. I’m here and I’m never leaving. You’ll never go anywhere without me again. You’ll get so tired of my face you’ll probably hire a hit man just so you can get some peace.” One last kiss, and Dean went back to his task.

Fifteen minutes later, he was running his comb through Sammy’s hair to check for strays and clear away the itchy pieces of cut hair. Carefully dusting all the clippings off Sam’s shoulders and back, Dean pulled Sam up and led him to the bed. “Get dressed, Sam. I’m going to talk to Benny for a second, okay?” Sam looked alarmed. “I'll be right outside the room, I promise. I won’t go further than that.”

Sam reached for the pile of clothes, studying each item like he’d never seen such a thing before, then put them on.

Dean opened the door, his first look outside Sammy’s room in over 24 hours. Hospital security was standing directly across from the door, alternating between glaring at Benny and Cas and being bored out of his mind. Benny was sitting to the left of the door, flipping through what looked like cajun recipes on his tablet, while Cas sat on the right side, hands folded in his lap, his eyes on the wall in front of him.

Benny and the security guard glanced up as the door opened, but Cas kept staring at the wall. Dean raised a brow, but wasn’t really all that surprised. “Angel radio, or something,” Benny snorted. Dean snorted, as well.

“Any leads on a place for us yet?”

Benny reached into his pocket and tossed some keys to Dean. “Yep. Fully furnished, including utilities. It’s yours for as long as you want it.”

“It's only been like an hour, how did you...”

“It’s best you don’t ask bro...boss.”

Dean just raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not as nefarious as he’d like you to think, Dean,” Cas intoned from beside them.

“Welcome back, Feathers.”

“My name is Castiel.”

Benny just snorted again. “Anyway, did you get a chance to look at your brother’s records?”

“Not yet, nutshell it for me.”

“The only spot not damaged when he came in here was his face. From the wounds on his arms, they’re the only reason why. He lost a lot of blood, but they got him stable and aside from some bruised ribs and the wounds on his body, there’s no major damage. With some time and good antibiotics, he should be fine physically.”

Dean ignored Benny's emphasis on the word physically. “So I can take him out of here.”

“Yeah.”

“Where is this house, anyway?”

“Ellis, South Dakota.”

“South...”

“Yep, right near an old friend of yours, I think, yeah?”

“Did Bobby...”

“I am unable to either confirm or deny whether a grouchy as fuck, old as dirt, vampire hating hunter did or did not have anything to do with you living in a house that was formerly owned by his family. All I know is that the utilites will be on by the time you get there. Sorry.”

“That son of a bitch,” Dean said, smiling.

“That’s exactly what he said about you,” Cas noted. “I find it very confusing that you both say such clearly insulting things but sound almost...” Cas paused for a moment. “...complimentary. Years on earth and I still have no idea what you mean half the time. It’s quite bothersome.”

Dean just clasped Cas on the shoulder briefly, then turned to Benny. “Let the front desk know we’re checking out. We’ll be out of here in a half an hour.”

Dean stepped back into the room but stopped abruptly. Sam was dressed, sitting uneasily on the edge of the bed studying the tiled floor.

“Sammy. You look...” Dean trailed off, choked up. “You’re beautiful, Sammy. So handsome. Just like I remember.”

Sam refused to look up.

Dean grabbed the bag Benny had brought their clothes in. “Come on, Sammy, we’re leaving.”

At that, Sam jerked his head up, eyes wide. “That’s right, baby brother,” Dean continued, shoving tubes of antibiotic cream and anything in the room he thought they could use into the bag, “we’re out of here. Bobby found us a place near him. You remember how Bobby is, though, he doesn’t want us to know it was him.”

“We’ll have to get you some antibiotics and keep cream on your wounds, and we’ll have to take care with your bruised ribs, and any other bruising you’ve got in there, but, you’ll be just fine, baby brother.”

Dean stopped, his bag full, and strode over to Sam. “You’re going to be fine, Sammy.” Dean said fiercely, hand on Sam’s face. “We’re going home. And we’re going to be just fine."

Dean took one last look around the room.

"Let’s go, Sammy. Let’s go home.”


	4. Chapter 4

Dean opened the door, watching Sammy carefully for signs of distress. Sam pressed himself against Dean’s back and grabbed for Dean’s hand, but showed no other signs of worry or an impending freak out. “Come on Sammy.”

Benny and Cas smiled at Sam, following along behind as they trooped down the hall. Stopping at the nurses’ station desk, Dean grabbed a woman standing in front of the desk. “We’re leaving. Do I need to sign something?”

“Like we told the agents,” the doctor spat, “you can’t just leave. That omega is...”

“Sam. His name is Sam. Fucking use it. And yes, we can leave. If you need something signed this is your one shot to get it.”

“Look, you cannot move that omega...”

Dean stiffened, moving to stand right in her face. “His name is Sam,” he snarled. “You call him ‘that omega’ one more time and I’ll make sure you never treat another patient. Do I make myself fucking clear?”

The doctor bared her teeth and opened her mouth to reply.

“Think long and hard before you reply, cherie,” Benny counseled. “You have no idea what we could do to you.”

The doctor snapped her mouth shut, stormed behind the desk and pulled out an AMA form. “It says the o- the patient refused treatment and we are no longer responsible. Since he obviously can’t sign for himself -”

The doctor stopped speaking as Sam growled and grabbed the pen from Dean’s hand. He turned the paper and signed it himself, his name sloppy, his hand pausing before the last name like he wasn’t sure it was his to sign anymore – and damned if that didn’t make Dean want to see if John was really dead just for the pleasure to maybe do it all again – before finishing it with flourish, shoving it and the pen back at her.

“Is that...” The doctor looked shocked as she took in the tall, casually dressed and well groomed man.

“This is my brother, Sam. Thank you for saving his life. We don’t thank you for being dicks about doing it, though. We’re leaving.” Dean stepped away, tugging Sam along with him. “Come on, Sammy. Let’s go home.”

Dean’s amusement at the woman’s shock lasted him all the way through the city.

**

“Alright, little brother, we’ve got an almost nine hour ride ahead of us. You gotta let me know if you need anything, okay? We’ll stop for food...” Dean could see Sam tense up out of the corner of his eye, “...but we can eat in Baby here, to keep the freaks away from you for a bit. That okay?” Sam stared out of the window, not replying. “Sammy?”

Sam turned his head and smiled a little, nodding. “Don’t get food in the carpet, though,” Dean pointed at Sam, “I remember how messy you used to be.” And that? Was just a little too much, too soon, too fast, too hard, too much, too much, too much. Sam spread one hand on the window beside him and one on the seat between him and Dean, his breath choppy and labored as he tried to hold back the wailing scream he’d been building up for almost sixteen years.

“Sammy?” Sam flinched from the name even though this time it came from his brother’s mouth and not someone trying to break him with it. He hadn’t been in this car for – _breathe, omega, breathe_ – 55, 56, 57, 5800 days, and he’d figure it to the second if he just knew what day it was. _Breathe, omega, breathe_. 139,000 hours without Dean. If he only knew the day!

Time was measured in beatings, not days, because you don’t know days when you never see the sun and you can only tell the seasons when the ground you sleep on starts to freeze. He needed to know what day it was. What year. What time. What time. What time.

And he turned to Dean, who had slowed the car already, fingers an inch from the turn signal and there it went, blink blink blink, the last car sound Sam heard before his fucking father sold him to a man with no more teeth in his head than he had care in his heart. Dean slammed the car to a stop, tires skidding in the gravel because Dean might love Baby but Sam took up all the rest of Dean’s soul and that was always gonna win out.

Before Dean could so much as turn, Sam had hauled him to the center of the bench seat, grabbing Dean’s arm and ripping the cheap watch right off his arm. August 20, 2013. August 20th. 2013. 30 years old. 30 years, 3 months and 19 days old. He’s been gone for...numbers fly through his mind like the frames of TV shows he used to replay in his head to keep him sane. 5700 no, 5701 days away from Dean. 15 years, 7 months and 10 days since Dean went to hunt a vampire nest and came back to a demon that built a home in Dean’s chest right around where Sammy used to live.

“January 12, 1998. That’s the day I came home and you were gone,” Dean whispered into Sam’s hair like a secret.

5700 days for Dean. 5701 for Sam. It was the 11th. He took me the 11th. Sammy died the 11th.

August 19th 2013\. Redemption day. Maybe Sammy can breathe again. Maybe... _breathe omega breathe_...and then he’s screaming – deep and loud and right in Dean’s face. And Dean doesn’t flinch. He just hangs on and lets his Sammy scream. 15 years, 7 months and 9 days ago...yesterday yesterday yesterday...one day ago and Sam had smelled a smell he never thought he’d ever be near again. Dean. Dean. Dean.

Sam unknotted his hands, grabbing tight to Dean wherever he could – his ear, his jaw, his armpit, his throat. Dean did what he always did for Sammy – hold the darkness back so Sam could live in the light. 15, 20, 24 minutes and Sam was quiet. 30, 35, 42 minutes and they’re on the road, Sam held tight to Dean’s side.

The road stretches out, the heat turning asphalt to ghosts shimmering above the ground.

1 hour, 2.

3 hours, 4.

Dean never lets go.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a tiny bit of dub-con at the end of this chapter. If you're sensitive to that, be warned. It is not toward Sammy.
> 
> One, maybe two chapters left and we're at the end of the road, folks. Thanks so much for hanging in there so long!

Ellis South Dakota came hours later than it should and too soon for Dean’s peace of mind. The Impala slipped through the dusk and into a long driveway before Dean was ready to let Sam go. Tired and in pain, Sam had fallen asleep tucked tight against Dean about two hours ago. Dean hated to wake him, but knew he needed the comfort of a bed and some food.

“Wake up, Sammy, we’re here.”

Sam came awake immediately, jerking away from Dean and looking around wildly.

“Shh, shh. It’s okay Sammy. It’s okay!” Dean stroked Sam’s shoulder. “Let’s get the bags and stuff inside, okay? Come on Sammy.”

Sam slid out on Dean’s side, staying close to him. They took in the yard – big but not huge – trees standing tall against the sky blocking neighbors and road sounds almost completely. Climbing the steps to the porch, Dean dug for the keys. “Looks nice, doesn’t it, Sammy? Ole Bobby always comes through, no matter how long you have to listen to him bitch about it afterwards.” Dean glanced up at Sam who was staring at the giant dog bed on the porch.

“I think that’s Bobby’s way of telling me to get you a dog,” Dean chuckled. “You know how Bobby loved old Rumsfeld. Broke his heart when this bitch of a demon killed him.” Dean shook himself out of the memory. “Would you like a dog, Sam? A great big one that looks like he’d kill you just for a snack but really would be more likely to lick you to death?”

Sam didn’t answer, of course, his eyes still on the dog bed, and it was just one more thing Dean couldn't bring himself to think about for too long. “Come on, Sammy. Come inside.”

The first thing Dean did was check the house for wards and devil’s traps. There were a couple he’d add but everything else looked safe, and there was a sack of rock salt in the kitchen to touch up the salt lines at the doors. Running his fingers over the sills, Dean could tell the window paint had been mixed with salt for a little more permanent protection.

When Dean got done, Sam was still standing in the middle of the living room. “Sammy. Come on, I’ll show you your room and then we’ll cook something after we drop these bags off, okay?”

Sam followed along silently.

“Okay, Sam, there’s two bedrooms here. You can have either one you want. If you...I...look,” Dean blew out a breath. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep in another room right now. I hope that’s okay. I just...I can’t let you out of my sight. You know? I just...can’t do it, Sammy. So just, pick a room for us for right now.”

Sam looked at both rooms, picking the larger of the two and standing awkwardly in the middle. It had large windows and a big fluffy looking bed.

“You want this one? Great choice baby brother. Okay, you want to get cleaned up, eat or take a nap first? I know you’re tired but we haven’t eaten in a few hours either. It’s up to you, though, Sammy. Whatever you want, we’ll do.”

Sam walked over to the closet and dropped his bag on the floor. Dean frowned, realizing he had no clothes for Sammy but wasn’t about to drag Sammy through a store so soon after everything he’d been through, and Dean sure as fuck wasn’t leaving him alone to go shopping. Since it wasn’t like Sam had anything to unpack yet anyway, Dean dropped his own duffel in the floor and took just long enough to pull antibiotic cream from Sam’s. Sam could wear Dean’s clothes for now. That was nothing new to them anyway.

“What’ll it be, little brother?”

Sam twisted his hands nervously for a moment, plucking at his clothes, then walked to the bathroom door.

“Wanna shower, Sammy? You got it. I’ll get you some of my clothes to change into and then I’ll clean up myself, okay? When you’re done, Sammy, just go to the kitchen if you’re hungry or climb in bed if you’re tired and I’ll be there right after my shower.”

Sam nodded, pulling his clothes off and looking for a hamper. “I’ll take them Sammy. I think Bobby forgot to get us a hamper. You know how he is, he probably just wears clothes until they get so dirty not even he can stand it then puts them right in the washer.”

Sam smiled, just a little, and adjusted the water carefully in the shower, still nervous in the confined stall.

“You wanna try a bath, Sammy? Would that be better?”

Sam gripped Dean’s shoulder for a second and shook his head violently. Dean grabbed Sam by the back of the neck.

“Shh, it’s okay Sammy. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, you hear me?” Checking the water temperature himself, he made it a little cooler and guided Sam to the shower. “I’ll be right outside, Sammy, okay?”

Dean quickly rummaged through his duffel, got some clean clothes for himself and found Sammy some underwear, sweats and a tshirt. He quickly placed them on the toilet for Sammy to find when he got out, and put a tube of the antibiotic cream on top. And then he stopped. Sammy was crying.

Dean tried to leave the bathroom, he did. He wanted to give Sammy a chance to do something mostly on his own, even something as simple as showering, but he couldn’t quite make it. He’d tried so hard not to think about what Sammy had gone through. If he did, he’d never make it without tearing apart everything around him. He knew himself well enough to know that.

But every time they encountered anything new so far, Sam had obviously horrible memories of it. Sam used to love a bath and now he seemed as terrified of it as he was of everything else. It was breaking Dean down, and he could not allow that to happen.

He had a plan. Heal Sam. Maybe go back to hunting and maybe not, depending on what Sam wanted and needed. Oh, and find and kill everyone who had ever hurt his Sammy. But that was after. Because that was for him and him alone. Sammy would never know what Dean was going to do to them. It wouldn’t be fair to make Sam live it all over again once he finally worked through it. So Dean would wait. And Dean would stick to the plan.

Sam stepped out of the shower, and Dean automatically reached for a towel and started to carefully dry him off. “Your cuts look better, Sammy. They should be healed soon. I can’t imagine how it feels to have to put clothes on and sit and...” Dean stopped and took a breath. Sam ran his fingers haltingly through Dean’s hair then turned Dean’s face to his and rested his forehead on Dean’s.

Dean was sure Sam had much worse pain than this, and he ground his teeth so he wouldn’t cry or rage. Sam started to hum, like he’d done in the shower at the hospital, and Dean dropped a kiss on Sam’s shoulder, cleared his throat and reached for Sam’s boxer briefs, helping him slide them on.

His brother was so thin they were loose on his slim hips. Dean traced the bones of his brother’s ribs and added that to his list. Picking up the ointment, he set about coating each wound, committing them and every scar to memory. When he was done, Sam got dressed and they walked back into the bedroom.

“What’ll be, Sammy? You want some food or to sleep more?” Sam haltingly gestured to the bed. “Okay, little brother, get settled and I’ll be back as soon as I take a quick shower. Go on, Sammy,” he encouraged when Sam wouldn’t move. When Sam started moving, Dean went to the bathroom for his fastest shower ever.

Once he dried off, he stepped into the room only to find the bed undisturbed and Sam nowhere in sight. Thinking he must have changed his mind and headed for the kitchen, Dean checked, but couldn’t find him. Panicking, he searched each room of the house, and the car before coming back to the bedroom to see if Sam took his bag and ran. As he wrenched open the closet, he finally noticed Sam, sleeping in the floor beside the bed, his head pillowed on his arm.

“Oh Sammy,” he whispered. Walking over, he untucked the covers and fluffed a pillow before lifting Sam and putting him in the bed. Grabbing some water for both of them, his laptop and his phone, he climbed into bed beside Sam, tucking his brother snug up against his side. Sammy never stirred.

Dean clicked through site after site until he found what he wanted, and using the sizes from Sammy’s one outfit, he ordered enough clothes for Sam to be able to go at least a week and a half before doing laundry. He bought soft shirts and pants that would fit Sam now, but had some stretch to still fit as Sam gained the weight he so desperately needed. He added lots of underwear and thick, soft socks as well as flip flops, flexible slide on shoes and soft canvas sneakers. As Sammy got back into shape, Dean would buy him more things as he needed them.

Dean paid for all of it with a stolen credit card and had it sent to one of Bobby's ever changing PO Boxes, but knew that was going to have to come to an end. With a permanent address, they were too vulnerable to rely on card fraud any more. He’d need to get a job outside the home eventually if they didn’t go back to hunting, but Bobby had found him a consulting job he could do from home while he was on the hunt for Sam. That would do for right now.

Dean would be using his brand new PhD in Psychology with an emphasis in parapsychology from a university in California, as well as his minors in folklore, mythology and religious studies to do pretty much what Bobby had been doing for hunters as long as Dean could remember. The only difference is Dean’s help would be scholarly, not practical.

Dean wanted to know who to thank for his new credentials, but Bobby wouldn’t say more than his name was Frank and mutter curses under his breath. Dean figured it was someone else Bobby’d had a falling out with and let it go.

“Hey, Bobby. I need you to do me a favor, would you?” After he hung up, Dean settled down to watch some tv and wait for Sam to wake up. It wasn’t long before he was also asleep.

**

Bobby showed up the next morning after the boys finished a breakfast of eggs and toast. Dean had done research on what he needed to feed Sammy to build his appetite back up slowly and safely. Bobby showed up with bags full of fairly bland but nutritional foods, juices, milk, water and a complete multi-vitamin. Sam stood nervously as Dean let him in, unsure how Bobby would react to him.

Bobby held out one arm to him and said, “Hey, son. I’m glad you’re home.”

Sam froze for a moment, then hugged Bobby tight, sobbing into his jacket. “It’s alright boy. You’re fine now. Dean’s gonna take care of you. And if he doesn’t, you let me know. I’ll run that idjit off with a butt full of buckshot just like I ran off your no good -” Bobby stopped abruptly. “I got something else for you, boy. It’s on the porch. Come on, let’s go see.”

Tied to the porch was a dog. “This is Rumsfeld II. He looks just like my old fella, don’t he? He’s about a year and a half they said, so he’s full grown, though he’ll probably get heavier. He’s had his balls snipped so you don’t have to worry about puppy support or anything like that.”

Dean had to excuse himself when Sam laughed at that, emotional at the smallest joy on Sam’s face. He came back with a bottle of water so no one would know, but the sorrow on Bobby’s face as Sam petted and played with the dog nearly sent him back inside.

Bobby stayed the rest of the day, watching westerns on the tv and insisting on making a surprisingly tasty if bland version of his chili for them to eat lunch and supper – cutting off Dean’s lecture on Sammy and spicy foods with a flood of cuss words and a carving knife. Sam brought Rumsfeld II into the house, negating Dean’s disagreement by marching the dog into the house and shutting the door in Dean’s face.

Dean threw up his hands, but there was no way he’d deny Sammy anything at this point, so he stayed silent – right up until he caught Rummy II (his nickname) chewing on his boots. Dean was cussing and Sam was laughing, making a huge deal of closing the closet door so Rummy II couldn’t get to anything. Dean huffed and stormed off, Sam’s laughter ringing in his ears.

Bobby shook his head, called them idjits and served them chili in the living room. Dean hadn’t felt this happy in a long long time.

**

Months flew by. Sam was eating as much as he always did, had gained almost to his suggested weight, and had started an exercise program he found online. Dean could hear him muttering to Rummy II from time to time, but Sam had still never spoken to him directly. He never pushed.

Sam’s nightmares were fading, though he still had them, and he and Dean still slept tight together to keep as many of them at bay as they could. Sam still flinched from new situations, loud noises, or if Dean moved too quickly. Dean soothed him every time.

The first time Dean forced himself to go to the store without Sammy, he thought he was going to have a heart attack. He got half of what they needed at the store, threw things in the buggy they didn’t need (though Sammy’s mirth when he saw the denture cream in the bag with the toothpaste was kind of funny, even if Dean didn’t appreciate Sam’s ‘you’re lying’ eyebrows when Dean swore it was for Bobby) and nearly wrecked Baby trying to get back to Sam. He’d thrown Baby into park and was out the door when Sam stepped out onto the porch to help him carry in the bags. If Dean had to get his hands on Sammy and looked him over really quickly before he even turned the car off, that was no one’s business but his own.

He went back to the store two days later, and forced himself to get everything they needed.

**

In October, Dean was startled awake by the feel of heavy body pressing him to the mattress. He’d lost his hunting instincts to a degree because of Sam’s thrashing when he was caught in a nightmare, but the oppressiveness of being pushed into the bed had him grabbing at the person trapping him. Sam cried out as Dean gripped his arms in an iron grip. “Sammy?”

Dean’s arms automatically shifted thinking Sam needed to be held close, but Sam swatted Dean’s hands away, and as Dean slowly woke up, he could feel Sam scrabbling at his pants.

“Sammy? What are you...” Dean’s breath caught as Sam finally got Dean’s pants down and sank directly onto Dean’s surprisingly hard cock. “Sam,” Dean choked out, the fog of sleep finally clearing. “Sam you can’t...This isn’t...Sam, stop...” Dean tried to lift Sam off him, but Sam grabbed Dean’s wrists and pinned them to Dean’s chest, using them as leverage as he started riding his brother in earnest.

“Oh, Sammy, god what are you doing?” Then it hit him. Sam smelled like oranges and honey and dark loamy earth. “Fuck, we shouldn’t be doing this, but you smell so good, baby brother. So fucking good. You smell like mine.”

Sam was in heat.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam’s heat set him back. He was almost feral, grunting and rutting mindlessly, snarling at Dean when he tried to loosen Sam’s hold. Dean was trying to stay calm, but his alpha was howling against the treatment. Because Dean might be Sammy’s brother, he might be protector against the things that go bump in the night, and he might be crazy in love with his brother, but deep in the soul of him, the one thing that drove him to protect and care for was that he was alpha.

And Sammy might be breaking his heart right now but he was also trying to deny his alpha’s hold and Dean couldn’t allow that. He broke Sam’s grip like the world broke Sam’s body and laid Sam out flat on his back to the mattress – his wrists in Dean’s hands. And there was no going back from this. Dean either took and took like everyone else in the last sixteen years or he built, and either way they went, it was what happened now that mattered. What happened after. Because this was as inevitable as the fucking tides and just as potentially corrosive.

And Dean was moving, slow and slick and deep, without realizing it. And Sam, sweet, broken, silent Sam was muttering – mouth moving, lips wet and open – and even after all the months of silence, Dean didn’t know if he wanted to hear what Sammy had to say.

So he tightened his grip on Sam’s wrists, leaving brackets of bruising that would send him to his knees in the morning but simply held him up right now. Dean could see when Sam got lost. When it was no longer Dean fucking into him but every nightmare he’d had in the last almost sixteen years. Dean let go of him then, cupping Sam’s face in the hands that held him down.

“Don’t go there, Sammy. Don’t, Sammy. Come back to me. You started this, Sammy! Come on, little brother.”

Sam started to stiffen, his hands coming up to push Dean away. Dean caught Sam’s hands, his thumb brushing against a bandage on Sam’s left hand.

“Sam. Sam!” He yelled. “You’re not there anymore, Sam. You’re here, with me. Remember, Sam? The hospital? Our house? Remember when you cut your hand? You busted that glass when we heard those jackasses out in the woods shooting their guns and acting stupid, remember? That piece went right through your palm.” Sam stopped struggling. “No one was there but you and me, remember? I patched you up.”

Dean pressed against the cut on Sam’s hand until blood seeped through the bandage. Sam gasped with the pain, mouth hanging open against it.

“Remember Sammy, please,” Dean whispered. “It’s not the same, little brother. It’s not the same.”

“Not...same.”

“Not the same, Sammy. I’m your big brother. Your lover.” Dean’s voice swooped low. “Your alpha. I love you. You got away, remember? You gotta...You gotta believe in me, Sammy. Believe in _us_. You make us stone number one. You hear me? Stone number one, Sammy. And we _build_ on that. You and me.”

“You and me.”

Dean stopped pushing on Sam’s palm, stretching his fingers over Sammy’s hand like he could bind him to the here and now with nothing but his fingers. “You and me.”

“You and me,” Sam sighed, curling his fingers into Dean’s and his leg over Dean’s hip. “I got away.”

“You clear Sammy?” Dean asked. “You here with me? You see me?” Sam nods. “What do you want, Sammy? Right here and right now. What do you need?”

“Need you, Dean. Need to be on top. Need to be free.”

“Okay, Sammy, okay.” Dean’s alpha settled. His omega needed this and Sam would always get what he wanted. Dean flipped them carefully, Sam back on top where he needed to be. He was moving, Dean still and nonthreatening underneath him, linked with the slide of skin and the clutch of Dean’s fingers on his hips.

“Touch me, Dean.”

“Always, my omega. Always.”

**

Sam was lying on his stomach, sleep clinging to him like the darkness. Dean was on his side, fingers sliding through the cooling sweat on Sam’s back, the smell of omega and come thick in the air. “I heard the stories about you, Sammy,” Dean said, his voice low, knowing how painful talking about this could be. Sam tensed under Dean’s hand, the edges not dulled by a whisper in the dark.

“How you wouldn’t submit, how they couldn’t break you, no matter how hard they tried.”

“Missed you. Every day.”

“I knew, Sammy. I _knew_ it was you. I’d watched you when we were hunting, you know. So fierce, little brother. You never backed down. Not once. Not against anything. How could anyone think you were weak? I nearly got myself beheaded one day because I got too busy watching you fight. I blamed it on being stunned by a knock to the head, but it was you, Sammy. Always the only thing I could see.”

“Wanted you to find me. Every day. For years.”

“I looked for you everywhere. I’d hoped...” Dean stopped when his voice broke. “I’d hoped you were unhappy without me. I didn’t know, Sammy. I believed him. I...I didn’t know.”

“Shh,” Sam whispered. “Shh.”

“Sammy.”

“Home now, Dean.”

“Yeah,” Dean breathed. “We’re home.”

Sam’s heat lasted another four days.

**

_Two Weeks Later_

“Want to go to the store, Dean.”

Dean stopped with his cup halfway to his mouth. “Okay. We’ll go in a few hours.”

Three hours later, Dean was freaking out. Hardcore sweaty palm, short of breath, teeth grinding freaking out. Mostly because Sam wasn’t. Not that Dean could tell, anyway. Dean had asked Sammy if he was sure so many times that Sam had refused to answer him anymore. He’d simply picked up Dean’s keys walked out to Baby and sat down. He sat there, window down and radio on until Dean got himself together enough to follow.

Dean parked outside the grocery store and turned to Sam.

“Don’t,” was all Sam said before he got out of the car.

Dean had no choice but to follow.

It was a nightmare. For Dean. Sam seemed to be fine. In fact, if Sam hadn’t stayed within arm’s reach of Dean at all times, Dean would have thought there was nothing unusual going on at all. Dean watched Sam closely, but Sam blithely shopped like nothing was happening. Like this wasn’t something earth shattering. Like this wasn’t AN IMPORTANT DAY. It was making Dean crazy.

Somehow, they made it through unscathed. There were a few times when Dean could feel Sam closer than he had been, breath hot against the crown of Dean’s head. Every time, Dean reached out. Every time, Sam walked away.

When they got home, they had a fight about it being too soon, about Sam rushing things. Sam ended the argument by slamming the bedroom door in Dean’s face with these parting words, “It’s only too soon for you, Dean. You’re afraid I won’t need you anymore.” Dean raised his fist to pound on the door, but ended up with his palm pressed to it instead. Sam was right.

“Sorry, Sammy.” It was a long night.

**

_One Month Later – End of November_

“I want to go back to hunting.” Sam was braced in the middle of the living room, his posture and tone aggressive.

“Not a chance in hell, Sammy.”

“I’ll go without you.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh yeah?”

“You can’t even go to the store by yourself, Sammy, how the hell would you hunt? Be fucking realistic here, would you?”

“I don’t go to the store by myself because I don’t have a license, you jerk. Don’t think I couldn’t find Frank and get _several_ , though.”

“I am your alpha, Sam and I’m telling you no!”

“Some alpha you are! You say you want what’s best for me, but you won’t let me out of your sight! And who says you’re my alpha anyway? Last time I checked I’m not claimed.”

Dean started growling. This was an argument they’d had more than once. Dean wanted to wait until Sam was better before he claimed him. He couldn’t get over the idea that Sam hadn’t wanted what happened to them before Sam was sold. The thought that Sam was just grateful haunted him.

Sam was adamant he knew his own mind and knew when he was ready. The argument had ended with Sam putting Dean on his back and biting _him_ more than once. Dean still hadn’t marked Sam.

“What’s wrong, _alpha_? Pissed your omega, oh excuse me, the omega that is _not yours_ had the backbone to stand up to you?”

Dean got in Sam’s face at that. “Make no mistake. You are mine!”

“And you make no mistake, Dean. After the holidays, I’m going back to hunting. With you or without you.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“You’re damn right we will.”

**

January 22, 2014 – 16 years and 12 days (5856 days, 140,544 hours, 8,432,640 minutes, 505,958,400 seconds) since Sam and Dean’s world as they knew it ended and 157 days since it started again – Baby left Ellis, Illinois headed for Michigan.

Sam still had days he didn’t speak. His nightmares still came and went. He watched for faces he knew and hated every where he went. Some days he cried in the shower – the one place Dean wouldn’t hear.

Dean still wouldn’t let go.

Some days, Sam held on just as tight.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally, LARP and the Real Girl aired January 23, 2013 and this is a year later. There was no way to tie them into canon though starting with season 9, so the time shift will just have to do. I throughly abused canon - moving stuff around, changing things and stealing anything I needed. I did manage to drop them back into canon, though a year later, so I'm happy. 
> 
> I loved this prompt. It caught my attention immediately and I had to try to do it justice. Thank you all for coming along with me during this and for hanging in there with me! 
> 
> I can only hope I did well.

Extra, Silly Stuff (No, I'm not at all good with photoshop. lol But it's the idea that counts, right?)

 

Hmm, so the images will not embed for me, or work with the image adder thingy in the Rich Text Editor, no matter where I host them. 

Soooo, I'm just putting the links until I can figure out what's going on. Sorry for that!

 

This is the house I picture them living in in Ellis. This house is actually 4 miles away because the real Ellis, Illinois consists of...well, very very little. It doesn't even have it's own zip code.

[Their House in Ellis](https://flic.kr/p/WSNpB1)

 

Dean kept Sam's Journal. They still use John's for the information, but Dean removes any mention of their father as he comes comes across it. 

[Journal Page 1](https://flic.kr/p/VGZCE8)

[Journal Page 2](https://flic.kr/p/WFn7Ty)

[Journal Page 3](https://flic.kr/p/VGZCEZ)

[Journal Page 4](https://flic.kr/p/WFn7WQ)


End file.
